Through the Eyes of the Blind
by dogsrock101
Summary: "My eyes may be broken, but my spirit is not." Born in Rohan but raised in Rivendell, Raevalilina navigates the halls of the Last Homely House from childhood to womanhood with more than just her walking stick. A series of one-shots featuring different characters and their interactions with my OC.
1. Prologue

_Hello everyone, welcome to my story! This is my first time writing a LOTR fic, although I have been writing on this site for 7+ years. (I actually shouldn't even be committing myself to another full-blown story but hey when inspiration hits I just gotta write!) I am a still a LOTR novice, trying to figure out this highly complicated world Tolkein created. Please do not hesitate to correct me with any historical inaccuracies, etc. I may make! I also want to give you a fair warning that I'm not the best when it comes to updating. Writing is a hobby - not a priority - of mine that I do for my personal leisure. It's one of the few things in my life that doesn't have deadlines, and I like to take my time so I can deliver quality content to you all. Please be patient and understanding with me. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!  
_

* * *

 **Prologue**

The air ranked of smoke and burnt flesh. The high-pitched screams and cries for help that pierced through the night were soon silenced forevermore when the houses collapsed unto themselves and their inhabitants. The fire was like no fire the townspeople had seen before; no matter how much water they splashed on the burning red flames, they only continued to leap higher and higher towards the night sky.

"This is no ordinary fire," breathed a Ranger with a deep and husky voice. He and a group of similarly cloaked and hooded Rangers stood on the outskirts of the village, staring at the destruction and chaos. "There is an evil afoot."

"As we came expecting," was the grim reply from the Ranger to his right. The shadows of the flames danced along his tall frame. "Come, let us hurry and quell this fire before it takes further lives."

The first Ranger nodded and motioned at the others. "We will do what we can. You check the surrounding area for any survivors."

"Aye." Instead of following the others into the village, the Ranger separated from his kin and quickly began to scan the surrounding forest. His footsteps were light and silent as they dashed along the grass and over gnarly roots. His eyes swept over the dark landscape, his ears picking up the smallest of noises.

That was when he heard it. He turned sharply to the right and abruptly stopped running. Silently he glided towards the source of the sound, making his way quietly around the trees. As he drew closer, the ragged breathing he'd heard grew louder. He soon realized that the breathing was accompanied by what could only be sniffling, and he felt himself soften when he drew close enough to see who was making the noise.

A young child was curled up in a ball, knees curled up to his chest as he rocked back and forth on the ground.

The Ranger quietly stepped out from behind the tree he'd been hiding behind. He wanted to make his presence known without frightening the child, but wasn't sure how to go about it. He settled for quietly calling out,

"Hello, little one."

The child all but jumped out of his skin, whirling around to face the Ranger. It was then that the Ranger realized that the child was not a male, but a female. She was a human of about five or six winters. Tears were leaking down her eyes – eyes that appeared strangely milky, though perhaps they only appeared so because of a trick of the moonlight. Her face was grimy and blackened and what appeared to have once been neatly plaited hair was now a tangled mess. Her dress was torn and ripped and the fingers that gripped them were dirty and bloody. The Ranger felt a twinge of sympathy for the child.

"Do not fear me, child," he said softly, crouching down on one knee so that he was level with her. He stayed where he was, however, not wishing to scare her further by drawing closer. Realizing he still had his hood up, he lowered it to reveal his seemingly youthful face. At first glance he appeared no more than a dirty beggar, with his disheveled hair and scruffy chin. Underneath the dirt and grime, however, lay a handsome face with a pair of piercing, cunning gray eyes. "My name is Aragorn son of Arathorn, and I have come here to aid you."

"H-help?" murmured the child hopefully, stepping tentatively forward. "I-it is not I wh-who needs help, Sir Aragorn." She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. "My mama and papa! T-they…!" Her voice broke off and her expression became strained. Aragorn pitied her. It seemed to him she already knew the fate of her parents.

"My friends are putting out the fire as we speak," Aragorn replied slowly, carefully weighing his words. "They will find your parents." _Though I cannot guarantee they will be alive_ , he thought grimly.

It seemed to provide her with some comfort. She nodded and sniffed. "T-they told me to run," she murmured. "To run and never stop. Even though I didn't want to leave them behind." Her expression grew guilty.

"And why did they tell you to run?" Aragorn asked softly. "What happened, my dear…?"

"Raevalilina," she sniffed. "My name is Raevalilina Tocque." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't know what happened. I-I think it was a raid. I heard horses and glass shattering and…" She shivered. "I smelled smoke. My parents – they told me to run."

Aragorn was surprised the child had managed to run away from the chaos undetected by the raiders.

"And these raiders?" he prodded in what he hoped was a soothing tone. "Did you see or hear any of them?"

She opened her mouth and then closed it, her eyebrows knotting in thought. "They did not speak in Westron. They spoke in a tongue I've never heard before." Her face paled and a shiver ran down her spine. "It sounded…Dark."

It was exactly what Aragorn had been expecting to hear but hoping he wouldn't. He forced a reassuring smile on his face, however, and extended a hand out to her. That was enough interrogation for one day.

"You must be tired, Raevalilina. Let's take you home."

Though his voice was kind and warm, his words were hollow and meaningless. For there was no longer a home for her to return to.


	2. Dancing in the Rain

**VERY IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE (PLEASE READ!) for current readers (6/18/17):**

 _Hello! Thank you to all of you who have thus far reviewed, favorited, and followed my story! I'm glad you enjoyed the Prologue! However, I have decided to take a different route for this story. Originally, I had thought up this story with the intention of adding Raevalilina as a 10th Walker, but I've quickly realized that would be a terrible idea. When I first envisioned the story, my focus was on her interactions with the characters; I hadn't really bothered to flesh out a substantial plot that made sense. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that I wanted to go in two different directions with my story. On one hand, I wanted her to be raised in Rivendell and interact with specific characters. On the other hand, I wanted to write a multi-chapter story that would have an actual impact on the LOTR timeline. So I've decided to write two separate stories, each one focusing on the same OC but with substantial differences in plot.  
_

 _THIS story will focus on Raevalilina's interactions with characters as she grows up in Rivendell. There will not really be a plot. These will be more of a series of related one-shots chronicling moments in her life. The OTHER story will have an actual storyline and plot. She will be the same exact character, only that she will not be raised in Rivendell. Though that seems like a minor change, it completely changes her character and history._

 _I know you're probably thinking: uhm, I've only read the Prologue, so what does this really matter? I just wanted to give you a head's up because of what the summary may have implied and because all of you came in expecting your typical multi-chapter story, not a series of one-shots._

 _Okay, that was officially the longest A/N I've ever written. Please let me know if you're confused! Feedback on this first chapter is greatly appreciated. Thanks!_

* * *

Streaks of white crackled against a stormy blanket of grey. Thunder rumbled overhead, roaring like an untamed beast. Rain poured down from the heavens mercilessly. Over his head Lindir heard the raindrops pounding against the roof like the pounding of drums before a battle. For the heavens had, it seemed, waged war against the earth.

"Lindir!"

He was surprised to hear Lord Elrond's typically calm voice notched an octave higher than usual. He was even more surprised when he turned and saw that his lord's face was drawn tight in worry.

"My lord Elrond." He hurriedly stepped towards the elder Elf, his own eyebrows knotting in concern. "What is it that distresses you?"

His lord glanced around himself distractedly. It was rare to see him in such a state, and Lindir feared that something grave had occurred. Perhaps the weather had been a warning of such an occurrence. "I seem to have…" Lord Elrond gestured vaguely in the air, struggling to find the right word. " _Misplaced_ Raevalilina." His smile was one of apology and embarrassment. "We were in the library together before she must've scampered off without my realizing. Have you seen her?"

Lindir relaxed slightly. He'd been expecting his lord to bear far more dreadful news. Finding a child running about the halls surely would not be so difficult a task. "I'm afraid I have not, but I would be glad to help you search for her."

Elrond smiled knowingly. "You probably think me a fool for worrying so."

Lindir bowed his head. "I would never think you a fool, milord."

"Nevertheless, the child is still rather unfamiliar with these halls; I fear she may have scampered off too far." They both knew that it was more than her unfamiliarity with the halls that worried Elrond, but neither spoke of it. "Elladan and Elrohir are also helping me look for her, but I would appreciate your aid as well."

Before Lindir could agree to help Lord Elrond in his search, a playful voice called from behind,

"You would think that we were hunting an enemy within our walls, Ada, with the search team you are setting out across Rivendell."

Lindir and Elrond turned to see the older of the twins, Elladan, approaching them. On his lips was a carefree smile. Humor sparkled in his dark grey eyes.

"You found her?" questioned Elrond, assuming it could be the only reason his son jested.

He nodded. "Yes, Elrohir is with her now." He gestured for Elrond to follow him. "Come, Ada, I will take you to her."

Elrond picked up his robes and hurried after his son. "Where is she?"

Elladan's lips curled upwards. "You shall see soon enough." It was all Elladan said, and Elrond frowned. He knew the situation could not be dire, however, else Elladan wouldn't be at such ease. So it was that he followed his son without question. And, indeed, when they arrived at the courtyard Elrond saw just where the young girl had gone off to.

She was in the middle of the courtyard, giggling and twirling and dancing and singing. She looked as if she had jumped to the bottom of the Anduin; she was utterly soaked. Her chestnut red hair appeared a dull brown and her bare feet were kicking up mud on her dress. Though her appearance was not charming, her spirit could not have been higher; in fact, this was the first time Elrond had seen her so elated. Her whole face was lit up.

He turned to Elladan, who was smiling at him.

"Elrohir and I found her like this. I know," he added before his father could reprimand him, "that she will catch a cold if she stays out any longer. But…we could not find it in our hearts to pull her inside." He turned back towards the courtyard, smiling fondly.

Elrond followed his gaze. The child had stopped dancing now and was staring up at the heavens. Her eyes were closed as rain poured down her upturned face. She was completely oblivious to her spectators.

Elrond sighed softly. "As much I enjoy seeing her as content as she is, I'm afraid you are right; she will get sick if she stays out any longer." He took the cloak Elladan handed him and hurriedly rushed down the stone steps. The rain drenched him immediately; it was as if he had walked directly under a waterfall.

So loud was the clapping of thunder and beating of raindrops that Raevalilina did not hear his approaching. It wasn't until he was close that she twirled around towards the sound of her name being called by him. His heart clenched at the sight of her expression – what had once been blissful happiness was replaced by weariness and fear. She bowed her head and dug her feet deeper into the mud as she anxiously tread the grass where she stood.

"My dear," Elrond said softly in Common. "What are you doing out here?"

She raised her head. "I'm sorry," she blurted, clearly under the impression she was in trouble.

He smiled gently and knelt before her. He did not care about the mud that stained his robes. "What is there to apologize for?" He wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, causing her to jump in surprise. He made a mental note to himself to always announce his actions so as to not startle her. "I am not upset with you."

"Y-you're not?" she asked unsurely, twisting her fingers.

"Of course not." He pulled up the hood over her head. "I was simply worried."

"…Worried?" She repeated the word as it was a Sindarin word she was unfamiliar with. (Though he would change that soon.) "You…were worried about me, milord?" There was no hiding the mild surprise in her voice. He himself was pleasantly surprised that she now recognized his voice – it was taking her quite some time to distinguish all the Elves' voices from each other because they all sounded similar to her.

"You'd disappeared without my realizing, and I was worried that you'd gotten lost or injured," he explained. "Next time you wish to go exploring, we can go together."

She grew quiet. He wondered if he'd said something to upset her.

"Come along, now." He extended a hand towards her. "Let us go inside and get you dried up."

To his surprise, she hesitated. "Can I stay out here a little longer, Lord Elrond?" Her voice was meek. "I…I enjoy the feeling of rain against my skin." She smiled at him sheepishly.

Of course. Because she could not see, it caused her other senses to be more sensitive and hyperactive. It must've provided her with some sense of exhilaration and fascination to feel the raindrops falling against her face.

"Very well," he succumbed, unable to say no to her sweet and hopeful expression. "But only a little while longer." His voice grew stern. "I'll not have you catching a cold."

She beamed at him despite his stern tone. "Thank you!" She jumped up excitedly, splattering mud onto him unknowingly. "I promise I will not be long!"

He chuckled and patted her hooded head. It made him happy to see her as excited as she was. He rose to his feet, having had his fill of rain for the day. "I'll hold you to that, child."

And although she did stay true to her word and returned indoors shortly afterwards, the child still ended up catching a cold. By the way she jabbered at the healers and Elrond as they cared for her, however, one would think that she was feigning her illness. For although her body was weak, her spirits were high, and for the first time since she had arrived to Rivendell three weeks ago she was truly acting herself. Finally, it seemed, she was beginning to feel at home.


	3. Rider of Imladris

The wind roared in her ears and stung her face. Her cheeks and nose were a bright pink from the late autumn air. Her mare's breaths were steady and her steps quick. Raevalilina patted Harvinne's neck and leaned in close to murmur in Rohirric,

"Once again, my love, you have showed those Elvish horses the might of the Rohirrim."

Harvinne snorted in response and flicked her tail. Raevalilina threw back her head and laughed. It always exhilarated her to dash through the woods with nothing more than the wind on her back and a sword on her hip. Riding was as natural as breathing to her; it was a gift from the Horse-lords that ran through her blood. She loved feeling her horse shift beneath her and pound against grass and gravel, hearing the sound of bugs buzz past her ear and wind whip past her cheeks. There was a sense of comfort, too, that came with the excitement. Riding reminded her of her first home, where horses ran free and Men recited tales of old.

 _"The Horse-lords, the Elves call us. Master of the horse." Her father chortled at the notion. "Most would be honored to be named such. But we are not masters of the horse; the horse is not our slave. No, the horse is our friend, our companion, our family. We must treat him with the love and kindness we show each other." She giggled when he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Remember, my sweet, we are the Eorlingas, sons and daughters of the Earl of Young."_

She was shaken from her reverie and was quickly reminded that she was not alone when she heard a shout from behind.

"Rae!" She recognized the voice to belong to Elrohir. He spoke quicker than his brother and in a slightly higher pitch. " _Ada will have my throat if I lose you!_ " She understood the Sindarin words as easily as she did Rohirric and Westron.

A grin split across her face. " _It is not my fault you cannot keep up!_ " Still, she pulled on Harvinne's reigns, bringing her to a slow trot. She imagined Elrohir furiously cursing her in Sindarin as he rushed towards her; the thought made her smirk roguishly. "You'd think he'd learn by now," she said to Harvinne, reverting back to Rohirric. The mare's ears twitched. "For fifteen years we have bested him on horseback. Yet still he thinks he will best us one day." She sighed and shook her head. "The Elves have faith and patience, that much is certain." Her smile was a strange mixture of exasperation and endearment.

Instead of snorting in agreement, Harvinne stiffened. Her neck grew stiff and her ears drew taut in alert. The smile slipped off Rae's expression and her hand flew to her sword. She heard the sound of leaves rustling off to her right. She unsheathed her sword in one fluid motion and held her breath, fear and dread dousing her like cold water. She doubted it was a foe, since she couldn't have gotten too far from Imladris, yet if it was not a foe why was Harvinne so anxious?

She listened carefully as whatever it was in the bushes drew nearer. She heard hooves crunching against leaves and sensed the presence of a rider. Harvinne breathed heavily and anxiously tread backwards.

The rider spoke before Rae could demand him to. "I had never thought I would hear the tongue of Rohan spoken so far from the land of the Horse-lords and so near the land of the Elves." He paused and added in a tone she could not tell was jesting or not, "Or a woman raise a sword, let alone point it at a man."

It was a Man's voice, deep and strong. A noble man, Rae realized, upon hearing his educated voice and rather condescending quip. She would've been more excited to be speaking to one of her people – for it had been many years since she had spoken with a Man – if he hadn't been so rude. Her lips drew in a tight line.

"If all this surprises you, sir," she replied tartly in Common, not lowering her weapon, "then you have many more surprises ahead of you, if you head towards Imladris as I believe you to be."

He raised his brows in surprise at her statement, undecided about whether or not she was threatening or insulting him. _Imladris_ , he thought. _That is what the Elves call Rivendell in their tongue. Yet this woman is of Rohan, is she not? Many surprises indeed…_

He reassessed her with renewed eyes. She was a young woman in her early twenties, dressed in riding clothes that did not befit a lady (nor did the sword she still had brandished towards him). Her braided hair was a surprising shade – a brownish red, nothing like the blonde that dominated the land of Rohan. If he thought her hair was strange, stranger still were her eyes. They appeared glassed over. He couldn't tell if they were a very light shade of grey or if…but that couldn't be possible, could it? Surely a blind woman could not ride a horse or wield a sword.

"You have not yet introduced yourself, sir," she reminded him none too gently. "It is why I still wield this sword at you."

He would've liked to sneer that her sword did not frighten him (for what use was a sword if the one wielding it was an incapable woman?), but instead he replied, "I am Boromir, Captain-General of Gondor, son of Denthor." He placed his fist against his chest in greeting.

Recognition flickered across her features. She lowered her sword and bowed her head. "Lord Boromir, please forgive me for my ignorance. Had I known it was you, I wouldn't have treated you so warily. You must understand, however, that Orcs sometimes wander these lands; we must remain vigilant."

So warily, or so rudely? "I understand completely." He forced a friendly smile on his lips and bowed his head. "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. And now I suppose I must act the wary one, for I still do not know your name."

"Oh, of course!" She was embarrassed to have forgotten her own introductions. Ada was going to be most upset with her when he caught wind of how terribly she had treated their guest. "I am Raevalilina Tocque, daughter of Branford."

"Also the nonblood daughter of Elrond son of Eärendil." Boromir was surprised to see an Elf approach on horseback; he had not heard the Elf approaching. Boromir had only ever seen glimpses of Elves before, but he was surprised to see how youthful this one appeared. Elves often looked neither young nor old, with wisdom in their eyes that belied thousands of years, but this one was an exception. His pale face was smooth and his eyes were lively, lively only like a youth's could be. In this moment, however, they glinted protectively. He came to a halt beside Raevalilina, who turned towards him in relief. "And, in effect, my _Gwathel_ – sworn sister," he explained to Boromir's confused expression.

"Not to mention the fastest rider of all of Imladris." Raevalilina's lips quirked up into a mischievous smirk. The Elf rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Aye, that too."

Boromir's head was still reeling – not only was he confronted face-to-face with an Elf for the first time in his life, but one who claimed that he was Elrond's son and that the woman of Man was also his sister – when the Elf at last introduced himself properly.

"I am Elrohir son of Elrond." The Elf bowed his head in greeting. "Welcome, son of Denethor. We have been expecting you."

It took Boromir a moment to realize that he had been staring most impolitely. He blinked quickly and drew himself up. If this was indeed the kin of the great Lord Elrond of Rivendell, they were to be treated with the utmost respect. "Thank you, Lord Elrohir. I look forward to speaking with your father and meeting more of your kin." His eyes flickered curiously to Raevalilina.

Elrohir smiled and placed a hand protectively against Raevalilina's shoulder, causing her to jump slightly in surprise. He squeezed her apologetically. "We also look forward to becoming acquainted with you." Then the Elf turned to the woman and (to Boromir's great annoyance) spoke to her in what could only be Sindarin. Boromir's annoyance was quickly replaced by shock once again when he heard her reply in the same tongue. This woman was vexing! A great and frustrating puzzle she was.

 _"This is why you mustn't run off so far without me, Dilthen Er_ ," Elrohir reprimanded, oblivious to Boromir's aggravation. His tone was half-playful, half-serious. " _Did I not warn you of the strange Men that lurk these parts?"_

" _No, Alta Gwador, you warned me of strange and Dark creatures, not of Men._ " She paused. _"Unless, of course, you imply that this Man is a creature."_ She smirked cheekily.

" _That,"_ Elrohir replied in a surprisingly dark tone, _"remains to be seen."_ He had not liked the way the Gondorian had been eying her. He said nothing of it, however, and cleared his throat. He turned back to Boromir with a serene smile. "Come, Lord Boromir," he said in the Common Tongue. "Let us escort you to our home."

Boromir nodded. "I would be most honored, milord." He trotted after the two at a leisurely pace. "Let us pray there are no more surprises along the way," he muttered underneath his breath once the two had begun to speak in the tongue of Elves again, "else I fear I may lose my head."

If he had been aware of the sensitive hearing the two nonblood siblings had, he may have kept his thoughts to himself.

* * *

 _Dilthen Er =_ Little One

 _Alta Gwador =_ Big Brother (sworn brother; not related by blood)

 _Rae is short for Raevalilina._

 _Talk about the quickest update ever! This may be a new record - 19 hours? I think I've done 18 hours once. Either way, this chapter is obviously a huge shift from the last one, both with Rae's personality and skillset as well as age. I've decided that I'm not going to write these one-shots chronologically. They're not going to be in any particular order. However it will always be clear when it takes place and, if not, I will announce it in the A/N. I don't think it'll get that confusing_ _but if it bothers several of my readers I may write them chronologically. I like doing it this way because it allows for more flexibility in my writing; I can write whatever strikes my fancy._

 _Reviews are always appreciated_ _– thanks again to my reviewers and readers thus far!_


	4. One Last Farewell

Few spoke of the Rangers. An ancient race often believed to be no more than a tale, they were said to bear the wisdom of Elves, the prowess of Dwarves, and the cunningness of Men. They were Men of the night, living in the shadows, flitting from one dark corner to the next. Some believed them to be protectors, champions of the common wealth; others believed them to be murderers and thieves who lured you into the dark under false pretenses, only to slit your throat and leave you for dead.

Naturally, Raevalilina was quite wary and nervous around her new travel companions…and for more reasons than just the fact that they were supposed to be an extinct race of Men. After the destruction of her village, the loss of her parents and neighbors and friends – she closed her eyes firmly as a wave of nausea and sadness rolled over her like a tide – these group of strangers had tasked themselves her caregivers, protectors, and guides.

"A new home awaits you," Aragorn had said, tentatively squeezing her shoulder in reassurance.

A new home. Rivendell, they said, home to the majestic Elves. Just like there were tales of the Rangers, there were stories of the Elves. Unlike the stories of the Rangers, often frowned down upon, tales of the Elves brought forth feelings of mystery and awe; they were thought of as ethereal creatures, bound with a higher purpose.

Rae had been at a complete loss when the Rangers had told her of their intentions to relocate her to Rivendell. To what purpose? For how long? She understood that she was an orphan now, but she did not see how that would've been of interest to the Lord of Rivendell. (Certainly he may have had a good heart and pitied her situation, but to the extent of adopting her? Wasn't that rather extreme?) When she had meekly questioned Aragorn about the situation, there had been hesitation in his answer. His words had been chosen very carefully and deliberately.

 _"Though the situation may not be the most ideal," he said softly, as if worried his words would shatter her, "it is the best alternative we have for you. You need protection, and that protection can only be offered in Rivendell."_

 _His fatherly and gentle tone did nothing to soothe her worries. "Protection?" she blurted, unable to stop herself. Her curiosity and concern outweighed her fear of being reprimanded for speaking back. "Protection from what?" She paused and hastily added, "Sir."_

 _There was a pause. "I am afraid that is not my place to say. Your questions will all eventually be answered, child, when the time is right. I know that is not the reassurance you were hoping for, but it is all I can offer at the moment." She heard the apologetic smile in his voice. "It is a great favor I ask of you to trust us, Raevalilina, and I understand you must feel scared and lost." There was a brief pause as he extended a hand to lay down reassuringly on her shoulder, but he thought better of it and lowered his arm back to his side. "But I promise you that this will all be for the better."_

Rae felt like she hadn't had much of a choice or say in the matter. Who was going to vouch for her? The few survivors of her small village had been too overcome with grief to get a grasp of the situation. And there was certainly nothing she could've done. She may have only been six years old, but she was smart enough to know that if she chose to run away in the middle of the night, she would be dead by the morning. The Rangers, on the other hand, knew what they were doing. They knew the routes like the back of their hands. The confidence with which they mapped their journey, the resilience with which they trekked, and their experience with camping out and taking turns on the night watch made it very clear to Rae that these Rangers were no joke. She had no doubt in her mind that they would've made it to Rivendell within two weeks on their own if they weren't burdened with her and Harvinne.

Yes, her young horse was not yet a year old and was accompanying them on the journey. There had been some dissent among the group about whether or not to take the filly with them to Rivendell, but those who supported the move had trumped. (She had a feeling that Aragorn – whom she had by now identified as the leader of the group – had a great say in the manner. He had been quite vehement about bringing Harvinne along.) Rae was extremely grateful for the decision. She had been relieved and overjoyed when she had learned that her horse had survived the fire; she didn't know what she would've done if she had been forced away from her dearest friend. Even now she wished to feel the familiar graze of her horse's nose. But Harvinne was currently in the stables, along with the Rangers' horses, because they had checked in for an inn for the night. It was their first time resting in a village. It was their last night in Rohan, Aragorn had said, and he wanted her to cherish every moment of it.

"Of course," he added appeasingly, "I am sure this will not be your last time in your homeland."

Instead of energizing her, however, this only served to depress her. She didn't know when she would next step on her the soil of her land again – if ever. She had already lost everything and everyone she had ever loved, and now she was going to lose her homeland too. It was too much for one so young as her to bear.

The sounds of a familiar song drew her from her thoughts. The pub had grown quiet to listen to a woman sing the song of their People.

" _In the land of the Eorlingas,_

 _Horses run wild and Men roam free._

 _The golden sun shines down upon golden hair,_

 _And faces fair._

 _We are the Men of Rohan,_

 _Protectors, Servants, Descendants_

 _Of the King of old._

 _Fierce is our kinship with our Gondor brothers,_

 _And fiercer still are our Warriors at War_."

The woman's voice was ghostly and ethereal, and Rae found herself mesmerized. She had often heard this song sung vibrantly at festivals, with the villagers cheering and singing along. Yet it was strange how beautiful it sounded now, sung so sadly and gently, like a lullaby.

 _"A little lass,_

 _All snuggled warm,_

 _Lies in bed,_

 _And dreams a dream_

 _As sweet as her."_

She could hear the voice of her father in the back of her mind, and felt the ghostly warmth of his lips as he kissed her gently on the head. _"Good night, my sweet Raevalilina."_

"What is the matter, child?" said Candaith's gruff voice to her left. "Why is it you shed those tears?" Despite the roughness of his voice, he spoke with a gentleness that surprised her.

Rae didn't realize she had been crying until he had pointed it out. She put a hand to her cheek, and felt the cold wetness of her tears.

"I shed them," she murmured, her shoulders shaking and her voice warbling, "for all that I have lost." The tears flowed down heavier. "For my papa and mama." Her voice cracked at the end and she hid her face behind her hands, embarrassed to cry in front of people whom she still considered strangers. She wished she could feel the warm embrace of her mother's arms and the soothing murmurs of her voice as she rocked her back and forth in her arms, as she had always done whenever Rae was sad. But no, she was stuck now with these Rangers, and from then on with the Elves. She would never feel the warm embrace of her mother again.

"Ah, my dear," she dimly heard Halbarad's voice, warm and soothing like honey, "it is only natural you mourn the loss of your loved ones. Do not be ashamed."

"I, too, mourn what you have lost," said Lorneil, the sole female of the group. Her usually snippy tone was soft and understanding. "And though I cannot ever fully understand the pain you feel, I too have lost loved ones, and I know of the pain that sears through your heart." There was a rare smile on her lips, and it was one of sadness. Candaith affectionately nudged her in the shoulder, and his sister returned the favor.

"Your parents would be proud of you." Rae raised her head from her hands at Aragorn's comment. He was smiling gently at her. "You took a leap of faith by taking heed of our Company, and you have braved through not only the loss of your family and home, but through your fear of the future and the unknown. Not everybody could have been as brave as you have been this past week, Raevalilina, and I daresay your parents would agree." He leaned over the table and clasped her hands between this, squeezing them reassuringly. His hands felt scarred and calloused, yet oddly warm. She felt protected in them. "But being brave can be rather tiring," Aragorn said with a chuckle. "And I believe it is time you take a rest from being a heroine. Cry, laugh, or dance your heart out, little one; it is your choice how to spend your last night in Rohan. We will support whatever it is you choose."

A long silence fell amongst the group. Rae's tears had dried, and her mind had cleared. She was truly touched by the circle of strangers surrounding her, protecting her, supporting her. Though she knew not how much stock were in the myths and legends she had grown up listening to, she realized that it did not matter. At the end of the day, these Rangers were human, just like her.

The pub had regained its upbeat atmosphere. She heard drunk men singing and women chiding and children giggling while the woman who had been singing so sadly before was now singing as if they were celebrating the day of Rohan's founding. It would be the last time Rae would be with her fellow Rohirrim, and though she did knew not a single person in this pub, they were all her People. She wanted to spend her last night with them well.

"I would like to dance," she declared boldly, to the surprise of her companions. She wiped away the last of her tears and smiled. The others' surprise fell to relief, and they all smiled back, glancing over at each other and nodding their approval.

"Very well!" said Candaith loudly, his usually grim voice bright and boisterous. "If you would give me the honor, I would be happy to dance alongside you." Grinning charmingly, he offered the young lass his hand. His sister rolled her eyes in exasperation while Halbarad and Aragorn chuckled.

Rae giggled. "Oh, I don't know, Sir Candaith," she said cheekily. "I would not wish to embarrass you in front of so many people."

Aragorn, Halbarad, and Lorneil all burst out into surprised laughter. They had not expected the child to have such wit.

"Certainly not the first time a woman said no to him," Halbarad said, smirking wickedly. Candaith pointedly ignored him. The large man was pouting at Rae like a child.

"I will have you know, I am the best dancer in this whole pub!" He puffed out his chest indignantly.

Lorneil snorted. "You are a jester, brother." She leaned over him (much to his indignance) to say conspiratorially to Rae, "He has worse hand-eye coordination than a troll."

"And you have the elegance of an Orc," retorted Candaith, earning himself a smack on the arm.

Aragorn sighed and shook his head. There would be no end to their bickering once they got started. He stood from his chair, offered his hand, and said, "Let us make the most of your last night in your homeland." He paused and added cheekily, "And show these two how a girl of Rohan can dance better than the both of them combined." He laughed at the deadly glares the siblings sent him.

Rae giggled and took his hand, waving goodbye to the others as she took her future in one hand and said farewell to her past with the other.


	5. Sisterly Love

Arwen had treated Rae with nothing but kindness and affection ever since she had first arrived in Rivendell. Rae often felt like Arwen treated her like a mother would a daughter, rather than a sister would her sister. Elrohir and Elladan, on the other hand, were the two most mischievous and annoying brothers she could've asked for. They never spoke down to her the way Arwen did.

No, Rae knew that Arwen didn't speak down on her, but that was how it often felt. Her gentle chides and amused laughter always irritated Rae. In fact, there was a lot about Arwen that Rae envied and detested. The fact of the matter was, Arwen was simply _too_ perfect. She didn't have a single flaw Rae could think of. Soft-spoken, genteel and motherly, yet fierce and protective of her beliefs and loved ones, she was every man's (and even woman's) dream. Quiet and ethereal, beautiful and serious, like the Evenstar she was named after. Rae didn't have to be able to see to know that Arwen was unimaginably beautiful. She was often compared to Lúthien, the most beautiful of all the Children of Illúvatar that had ever lived. And Rae was loathed to admit that Arwen had a beautiful soul – Rae had felt it the moment Arwen had placed her soft and gentle hands over hers when she'd first welcomed her to Rivendell thirteen years ago.

Rae knew her feelings towards Arwen were irrational and childish. She knew that it all it was was jealousy. Because Rae was the complete opposite of her _Gwathel._ She was young and foolish and had always gotten on better with the lads than the lasses. She was nowhere near the caliber of the Lady that Arwen was. Usually Rae accepted this fact of life without complaint – for it was simply who she was – but there were times when she wished she could be half the Lady that her sister was. If only Arwen could share a pinch of her perfection with her, maybe she wouldn't feel undervalued and out of place, as she did from time to time. Maybe she could even attract a suitor.

She blushed at the thought, then chastised herself for acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. It was only natural for her, at the age of nineteen, to be thinking about love and marriage and perhaps one day children. But she knew none of that would ever happen. Not with her condition. Few men would want to bother to care for a blind woman, and even fewer would wish her to bear his children. And she didn't want her children to suffer either, for there was a high likelihood that they too would be disfigured. And even if there was a man – her destined one – out there for her, she didn't think she would ever find him. Not as long as she remained in Rivendell.

Though, she reasoned, maybe that was how it was supposed to be. She was content with where she was, after all; why bother to change it? Why did she waste her time fantasizing about a man who didn't exist? It was best for her to appreciate what she had here in Rivendell, and the love and respect with which she was treated with – which she recognized she would not receive in the outside world – was more than what she could've asked for.

"There you are, _Penig_." That warm and soft voice could only belong to her _Gwathel._ "You never showed for supper."

Rae had been so caught up in her thoughts that she'd completely forgotten about dinner. Her stomach suddenly seemed to remember, however, and growled loudly in response. Arwen chuckled gently. Even her laugh was perfect, so melodious and sweet.

Rae grimaced. "Ada will not be pleased. He is always upset whenever I miss a meal."

"Only because he cares for you," Arwen pointed out. "He wants you to spend your meals with your family."

"I know, I know," Rae replied impatiently. "But I will never understand why he places such a heavy emphasis on it. We spend time together every day; why must we be so ritualistic about spending our evening meals together?"

"Because it brings all of us together at the same time." She heard the smile in Arwen's voice and felt her warm hand on her shoulder. "Indeed, we do all spend time together every day, but not all of us together at the same time. Ada feels it's important we maintain those bonds, and having our daily dinner helps us do just that."

Rae was quiet for a moment, reflecting upon her sister's words. Arwen spoke up again a moment later.

"Is something troubling you, _Penig_?" Her brows crinkled in concern. "You do not seem yourself."

Another lovely characteristic of Arwen – her ability to read others and empathize with them. Rae was both touched and annoyed. She snorted in a most unladylike manner. "How about you use your magical Elf skills to read my mind and find out for yourself?" She winced at her own tone and harsh choice of words. That was too harsh, even for her. "Apologies, _Gwathel_ ," she sighed, shaking her head. "You are right; I am not acting myself today."

Arwen had been hurt by Rae's words, but lightened up at the apology. "Pray tell, sister, what has you upset?"

Rae bit her lip and twiddled with her thumbs in embarrassment. She milled over whether or not to tell Arwen the truth or to simply ignore her request. Knowing there was no one else in the House she could talk to about this, however, she decided to take the risk and blurted, "Do you think I'll ever find love?"

Arwen raised her eloquent eyebrows in surprise and blinked. She was quick to smile, however, and reassuringly placed her hand on Rae's arm. "Of course you will. Whatever makes you think you will not?"

Rae snorted derisively. "Isn't it obvious?"

"I think what is obvious," Arwen said, "is that you are smart, funny, and kind, and that any man would be lucky to call you his wife."

Rae didn't seem convinced; she pouted and mumbled, "Easy for you to say. You've got Aragorn."

The name of her lover brought a flutter to Arwen's heart. "Yes, Aragorn is my destined one, just as there is a destined one in the world for you."

"Then where is he?" she asked impatiently. "Lost in the woods?"

Arwen laughed. "Or perhaps stuck in a cave – who knows? All that matters is that he is out there, and one day when your paths cross, you will know he is the One."

"…So you knew when you first met Aragorn he was the One?" Rae asked, a tad hesitantly, almost seeming embarrassed to be discussing her sister's love life.

Arwen, however, was far from embarrassed. The thought of Aragorn made her glow. She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I knew from the moment I first laid eyes on him. There was something in my very soul that seemed to call to his."

Rae smiled. "That's almost the same way he described the time he first met you." Arwen blushed. "Do you miss him?"

She smiled sadly. "Every day."

Rae sighed. "I miss him too." Unlike Arwen's wistful, lovesick tone, hers was one of familial endearment. She recalled the last time she had interacted with Aragorn, and instead of smiling reminiscently she pursed her lips. "He still owes me five silver coins."

The smile and wistful expression instantly disappeared from Arwen's face. "What?" Her voice grew hard and stern.

Rae quickly realized that her tongue had (once again) let one too many things slip. She hid her grimace and fumbled around in her head for an excuse. "What I meant to say is that it is time I go eat my supper – I would not want it getting any colder than it already is!" By the Valar, you'd think she would've perfected her ability to come up with excuses by now! Already hearing the protest bubbling in Arwen's throat, she decided to take another tactic: she embraced her sister for the first time in many years. Arwen stood stock-still for a moment in shock before she slowly returned the embrace. "Thank you for the advice," Rae murmured. She smiled. "I know I don't say this enough, but I do love you, _Gwathel_."

Arwen practically melted in her arms. It was difficult enough getting a smile from Rae, let alone a declaration of love. "And I you, Rae."

They held each other for a moment longer before releasing one another. They smiled at each other and then Rae waved goodbye as she took her walking stick and began to head down towards the dining room. Arwen stood staring after her in a daze, surprised and pleased with all that had just unfolded, until she suddenly remembered something.

"Wait just a moment, Rae! What about those silver coins you were talking about?!"

* * *

 _Gwathel = Sister  
_

 _Penig = Little One_

 _All conversations that take place between Rae and the Elves are in Sindarin unless otherwise noted._


	6. There and Back Again

Bilbo Baggins naturally arose Rae's curiosity. Unlike most others, however, it wasn't his hairy feet or short stature that piqued the eight-year-old's interest, but the tales of his adventures. It dazzled her still how he, a seemingly insignificantly little hobbit, had traveled from the quiet pastures of the Shire – where adventure was unheard of – to the peak of the Lonely Mountain and back again. As if taking the trail from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain wasn't an adventure in and of itself, Bilbo had traveled alongside thirteen Dwarves and one tall Grey Wizard, overcoming capture from trolls and goblins, battling against and alongside foes and friends alike, and reclaiming the Dwarves' homeland from the vicious fire-breathing dragon Smaug. Her head spun at the mere thought of the madness and excitement of such a journey.

"Do you think I'll ever go on such an adventure, Mr. Baggins?" Rae asked him when he had concluded his lengthy tale. He had begun the tale over a fortnight ago and now that it was finally over Rae felt a strange sense of loss. She felt as if she had traveled and fought alongside the Company, experiencing the same tumult of emotions as they had. She had even grown attached to all the Dwarves whom she had never before met. (She wondered why the Elves and Dwarves despised each other so much. At least her _Ada_ did not discriminate against them.) Particularly she had grown rather fond of the hobbit. He was a kind and gentle soul who treated her with the same warmth and respect as her Elvish companions did.

Bilbo smiled warmly at her and placed his hand over hers. "I think you have even bigger adventures ahead of you, my dear."

Rae's eyes widened in surprise. "Even bigger?!" she choked out in disbelief. Then she threw back her head and laughed. "You jest with me."

Bilbo shook his head firmly. "I do not jest, Rae. I speak from my heart." He squeezed her hand gently. "You are still young and have so much of the world left to explore. There are plenty of adventures ahead of you."

Rae's face glimmered with hope. "You truly believe so?"

He smiled. "I know so."

Adventure had always seemed out of her reach – too dangerous and risky for a female, let alone one with her condition – but Bilbo's words brought her renewed hope. Perhaps one day she could prove to _Ada_ that she was capable enough to take leave of Imladris and experience the rest of Middle Earth. But that would not be for many years, until she became a grown woman. Until then…

She scooted closer to Bilbo, grinning widely. "Tell me again about the Elves of Mirkwood, Mr. Baggins. Is King Thranduil as devastatingly handsome as they say?"

* * *

 _Short chapter, I know, and a very long wait for it. I do apologize for the delay; I just haven't been in much of a writing mood lately. Thank you all for taking the time to read, review, favorite, and follow my story!_


	7. Midnight Rendezvous

The library of Imladris carried a vast and impressive collection of ancient runes and texts. Legolas smiled to himself as he paced around the spacious area. Reading was a favorite pastime of his – so much so that he had already read through the entire library in his home of Mirkwood…twice – and the prospect of tackling new literature excited him. Who knew what knowledge lay in these scrolls of old?

The moonlight filtered through the ceiling and cast itself upon a thick and heavyset book bound by leather. Legolas approached it curiously. He was surprised by the light layer of dust on it and gently brushed it off before picking the book off the shelf.

 _The Tragedy of Angmar: A Brief Glimpse into the Rise and Fall of a Kingdom Forgotten._

A brief glimpse? Legolas thought shrewdly as he shifted the weight of the book from one arm to the other. He reckoned it would take him a fortnight to finish the tale. He doubted too that this book would aid him in his search for answers in these troubling times, but curiosity and a thirst for knowledge – along with a hidden desire to run away from reality – drove Legolas to the plush leather chair in the corner of the room. The familiar scent of parchment and dried ink filled his senses as he opened the book to its first page. His eyes lit up in excitement. He was soon entrenched in the literature, and would've stayed so if it weren't for the noise that stirred him from his studies.

Bare feet pattered along the marble tile as a young woman dressed in nightwear entered the library. She appeared to be completely oblivious to the Elf as she skimmed her fingers along the nearest bookshelf. She smiled softly to herself. Legolas was mildly surprised to see that she was a woman of Man and not of his own kin, but the surprise was quickly quelled when he realized who she was.

He ruffled through the pages of parchment to reveal his presence in as gentle a manner as he could think. Still the noise surprised the young woman; her fingers caught on the book she had been caressing and it fell to the floor with a deep thud. She winced.

Legolas stood quickly to help her recover the book. "Apologies, milady," he said sincerely in Westron as he hurried to her side. "I did not mean to frighten you."

It seemed he had done just that, however, as she turned towards him unnervingly. "You did not frighten me," she replied with an indignant huff, surprising him with the animosity in her tone, "although I do admit that your presence startled me." She softened and smiled wryly. "For typically only I roam the halls at this late an hour."

"I fear it is earlier than it is late," Legolas corrected with a smile.

"You mean to tell me that it is closer to dawn than it is night?" frowned the woman, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin.

"That it is."

"Then may I ask, sir, what brings you to the library at so early an hour?"

"Curiosity," was his simple reply. "Though perhaps it may not have been so prudent a thing to take advantage of my hosts' hospitality by roaming his halls at so indecent an hour." He smiled apologetically.

She waved off his concern. "It is I who must worry about Ada's wrath, sir, not you." She paused thoughtfully. "But do forgive me, for I do not recognize your voice. Have we been introduced?"

"We have not," he agreed, "and I ought to apologize for not introducing myself earlier." He took a step back and bowed. "I am Legolas son of Thrandiul, from the woods of Mirkwood."

All traces of humor vanished from her face and was replaced by horror. Clearly she had not realized that she had been speaking to someone of noble blood. "Prince Legolas…!?" she croaked out in disbelief. She also suddenly seemed to realize the immodesty of her dress; she flushed red as she wrapped her robe tightly around herself. She dropped into a deep curtesy. "It is a great honor to meet you, milord. I am Raevalilina, daughter of Branford and nonblood daughter of Lord Elrond."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Raevalilina," Legolas replied politely, taking her hand and placing a peck on it. "I have heard much about you." Though his comment was meant to put her at ease, it only seemed to further unease her.

She chuckled unsurely. "Nothing too terrible, I hope."

"I doubt there is anything terrible to be said you," was his charming reply. He paused, a playful smile itching across his lips. "Except, perhaps, you explore your halls later than your father would like."

"That is the least of his worries," she grumbled, kicking her feet childishly. "Now he must carry the embarrassment of knowing that his daughter had not only been rude to one - but two! - of his guests." She seemed to talking more to herself than to him.

"You have most certainly not been rude to me, milady," he corrected immediately, trying to lift her downtrodden spirits. "Rather, I enjoy your company."

She looked up at him in surprise, then looked at him in a way that seemed as if she thought he was lying. After a pause, she replied, "And I you, milord. We are most honored to have you as our guest."

He wondered if she spoke truth or if it was mere formality. "And I am most honored to be here." He paused, reading the discomfit in her body language. "But perhaps I have outstayed my visit at the library today. I do not wish to intrude any further than I already have."

"Oh, no, milord," she said quickly, shaking her head. "As I said, you are our guest; please, you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you wish. It is I who is intruding upon you, in fact..."

He chuckled softly. "You cannot be an intruder within your own home, milady." He smiled gently at her look of surprise. "And as I said before, I enjoy your company. Please, won't you join me in these last few hours of quiet?"

Clearly thrown off by his request, she took a moment to reply. "I...I am most flattered, milord, but..." She trailed off, not wishing to point out the obvious.

"I could read aloud to you," Legolas suggested kindly, "if milady permits."

Both touched and embarrassed, she replied, "That is generous of you, Prince Legolas. But I do not wish to burden you."

"It is not a burden," he corrected, gently taking her hand to guide her towards the chairs. "In fact, I may enjoy it so much that this may become a regular occurrence for us." He grinned, and to his delight she laughed.

"For Ada's sake, let us hope not."

But for both of their sake's, they hoped so.


End file.
